


just a dream

by ottermo



Series: As Prompted [74]
Category: Humans (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Humans Creativity Night, Leo is a Hawkins now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-06-16 02:16:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15426828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ottermo/pseuds/ottermo
Summary: Leo struggles with the habits of his newly-human brain: nightmares, for instance, are a bit of a pain.





	just a dream

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the first Humans Creativity Night, which took place on June 1 - just before episode 3 went out, I think. I’m just backdating because I realised I never cross-posted it to AO3.
> 
> The prompt words were ‘secret’ and/or ‘dream’.
> 
> Back then, having only 2 episodes of series 3 to work with and trying to think of a situation Leo would find nightmarish, I never for _one moment_ imagined that it might actually come true. 
> 
> From that, you can probably guess what it is. But in this fic at least, it’s just a dream. As Leo will be assured.

For eight years his nightmares have only been comprised of real memories: bad ones, yes, but factual replays of a scene can only do so much in the way of trauma. Upon waking he was always safe in the knowledge that the memories were just that: finished, over, happened. The synthetic mind was kind in that sense. It didn’t invent things.

The human mind, on the other hand, relishes it - seems to have stored up eight years’ worth of imagined possibilities and delights in pouring them on him while he sleeps. This, Leo finds, is inconvenient. He is not used to it, this brain that can do as it wants, this brain that’s supposed to be a natural part of him, and yet never seems to listen to his instructions.

Fresh from the sight of Mia lying grey-eyed in his arms, Leo wanders, shivering, out of Mattie’s bedroom and heads for the kitchen. He should be better than this - he is sure he didn’t have such an adverse reaction to human nightmares by the age of thirteen - but there seems little else to do than breathe through it. He leans against the kitchen counter, hands braced, trying to stop them from shaking. It wasn’t real. Just a dream. Mia’s safe, she’s alive, she just isn’t here, that’s all.

He hears quiet movements from the stairs and cannot decide if he’s glad Mattie’s there, or annoyed to have woken her, or embarrassed that she’ll see him like this, a moment of weakness that ought to be kept secret. He is still deciding when the kitchen door opens.

“Leo?”

Not Mattie after all - worse, it’s Sophie. It’s still dark but he can pick out her face, creased in concern. This shouldn’t be… she shouldn’t be worried about him. She’s a kid.

“Hi,” he manages to say.

“Couldn’t you sleep?” she asks.

“Sort of the opposite,” he admits.

She passes him, having acquired a glass from somewhere, and turns on the tap. “O-oh,” she says, with an air of understanding that might be comical on her, if he was in a position to find anything funny.

“Did I wake you up?”

She shakes her head, drinking her water. “No. I was thirsty.”

He is not sure he believes her, but not enough that he’d challenge it.

“Did you know,” she begins, conversationally, “That when Mia lived with us before - when she was Anita, I mean - I had a nightmare that a monster was eating me.”

“Oh,” says Leo. “No, I didn’t know that.”

“And Mia gave me a cuddle even though Anita wasn’t allowed to. It made Mum really cross. We didn’t know about Mia then, so we just thought Anita was broken.”

Leo hums to show he’s listening, not sure how else to respond. He does not have much experience with talking to children. In fact, Sophie is the only child he has ever spoken to directly, which is…odd, now he thinks of it. He doesn’t even know how she compares to normal, if there is such a thing.

“Mia’s brilliant, isn’t she.”

She says it like it’s a fact, which it is.

“Yeah,” he says.

Sophie looks up at him. “I’m trying to decide if I’m supposed to hug you or if it’s weird,” she informs him.

Her pragmatism startles him into laughter.

“But if you’re laughing then you’re probably okay,” she continues.

He’s pleased to note that she’s right; unknowingly, she’s talked him out of his residual shakes just by… talking him out of it.

“Night, Leo,” she says, leaving her empty glass on the counter.

“Night, Sophie.”

She doubles back from the door and gives him a very brief hug anyway, before disappearing back up the stairs.

He watches her go, feeling the strangest swelling of gratitude.


End file.
